


Tea

by james_graves



Series: Hal Potter & John Wick [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:55:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james_graves/pseuds/james_graves
Summary: “Is there a way I can talk to Sirius Black?”





	Tea

Hal is still six when John finds a tutor for her- _magic_ , a scarred man with patchworked jumpers called Remus Lupin who teaches her how to play Quidditch in the back garden and the spell to fix her glasses when she falls over.

She turns John’s cup of coffee into a tortoise when she’s seven and has finished ‘Intermediate Transfiguration’ for the second time. John chases her around the house, only Hal has been able to teleport (“Apparate,” Mr Lupin corrects) for months now and Peter’s bounding after them all and it’s the best birthday she’s ever had.

“Do you want to attend Hogwarts?” Mr Lupin says, sometime in the next week. They’re sat in her garden and they can’t play Quidditch here, John says so, but they do other things instead, like drink tea or play catch with a Quaffle.

“It seems-” Hal thinks of the right word, settles with, “Slow.”

Mr Lupin smiles and swirls his cup. “For you, I think it would be. Of course, you can still enjoy it, if only for a year.”

Hal frowns. “I don’t want to be away from John and you and Peter for that long.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr Lupin sighs, looks down to his hands and there’s red, crisscrossed lines today. “You don’t have to decide right now, Hal.”

Hal swings her legs. “I don’t think I’d like it much.”

“That’s okay.”

They finish up their tea and Mr Lupin gives her some chocolate. It’s a good day.

.

.

.

John isn’t having a good day.

“Mr Wick,” Lupin approaches, scratching the backs of his hands.

“Remus,” John nods and closes his book because Lupin doesn’t tend to speak often.

“Hal is in danger,” he says, looks like the words in his mouth make him sick. John feels the different emotions, flits through his thoughts- _Why are you only telling me this now?_

“Go on,” he says, clenches his jaw and his fist.

At John’s inclination, Lupin pulls up a chair for himself and rather looks like he wants a cup of tea - or whiskey. Either one.

“I was- I was friends with Hal’s parents before they died.”

Really. “You don’t seem too sure about that yourself.”

Lupin smiles something sad. “Towards the end, things- It was a war, you must understand. Tensions - suspicions - were unfortunately high.”

John watches him, thinks of James and Lily Potter’s files. “I read that they died in a car accident.” No mentions of a war.

“No, no.” Lupin shakes his head, looks disappointed. “James and Lily were active in our cause - that is, protecting the rights of Muggles and wizards of Muggle heritage. However, a prophecy was foretold, detailing how a child would be born to a couple who thrice-defied the Dark Lord Voldemort that could defeat him.”

“Hal.” The word comes out sick.

“Indeed. Two fit the requirement. Frank and Alice Longbottom were due with a baby boy, Neville, and, of course, Hal.”

In this moment, Lupin looks so very old, weathered by it all.

“We didn’t know who Voldemort would choose,” he starts, doesn’t look him in the eyes. “The Potters and Longbottoms both went into hiding. At this time, I was working for the Order and not home often. It roused suspicions. I had a- falling out, with Sirius Black. He was James’ best friend.

“You see, there is a powerful charm called the Fidelius Charm. It means only those you disclose a location to - Secret Keepers - can see it and tell others the location. I’m not sure who Frank and Alice picked as theirs, but James and Lily went with Sirius.”

John stays quiet through this, until, “They were found.”

And Lupin looks thoroughly ruined. “Yes,” he manages. His sentences are stilted, voice scratchy. “I- I wasn’t there. Voldemort found them. Lily and James died. Hal didn’t. I think they protected her, somehow, because Voldemort hasn’t been seen since.”

“You believe Sirius gave them up?”

“The location has to be given willingly,” is all Lupin says.

“And are you sure Sirius was the Secret Keeper?”

Lupin sags in the chair. “James and Lily trusted him the most.”

“Do you think he would have given them up?” Because it doesn’t sound like it, not truly.

“I-” Lupin shakes his head. “I believed he was innocent, but Dumbledore was sure.”

“Dumbledore?”

“He was the head of the Order.”

Ah.

John decides to leave it for the moment, figures this isn’t the issue for the moment. “You thought Hal was in danger?”

“Yes, yes.” Lupin blinks and seems to forget where he is.

“Do you think Sirius is a threat to Hal?”

Lupin looks down to his hands. “He loved her,” he says quietly. “Loved her like a daughter. I- I don’t know.”

“The Sirius you knew wouldn’t have,” reasons John. He thinks of the little girl just upstairs that doesn’t know that her parents were murdered.

“It’s not a concern at the moment.” Lupin straightens and looks him in the eyes. “Sirius is in Azkaban, the Wizarding prison. He won’t be getting out. There are other Death Eaters, though; ones that paid their way out of Azkaban and up into high positions in the Ministry.”

John frowns. “Can you get me some names?”

“Yes, yes.” Lupin begins scratching away at a notebook from his pocket, the letters sharp and quick.

“Is there a way I can talk to Sirius Black?”

Lupin hesitates in his writing, looks very much like he wants to say no, but, “There might be.”

“Thank you.”

.

.

.

John walks just behind an Auror, holding an umbrella against the rain on that little boat. Azkaban is a daunting building, alright. He doesn’t focus on it much beyond noting down potential exits, instead thinks of Sirius Black and all that he’s read. Insane, they say. Dangerous and deadly. A murderer.

Maybe.

There’s six Aurors with him, total. He’ll have to deal with them. Later, though, not at the moment.

They escort him upwards, past incoherent screaming and banging against bars. The prisoners certainly seem insane, and he wonders how much of that can be attributed to the Dementors he knows guard this place.

“There he is,” spits an Auror and John raises an eyebrow at the tone.

“I’d like some time alone with him. If you don’t mind,” John tacks on, makes it seem more of a request than it is.

The Aurors share looks. “Black won’t be out of his cell,” one reasons.

John doesn't watch them leave. He walks further down the block, notes other supposed-murderers screaming or shaking or rocking in their cells, until he finds his man.

“Sirius Black," he says slowly. "My name is John Wick.”

“Hello,” Black returns, voice gravelly. He looks John up and down, eyes large in their sockets, and John feels terribly naked, just in that moment.

Black continues, “You have a paper,” but he doesn’t step any closer to the bars.

“Yes,” is all John says. “It’s of your arrest.”

“Of course.” Black’s clothes hang off him, his bones sharp.

“I have a drink for you.” John approaches him, slides the bottle through the bars.

Black was a smart man, before. John watches him weigh the chance that it’s poison and choose to drink it anyway, and thinks he doesn’t seem insane.

Well, he’ll find out soon enough.

“Veritaserum,” grins Black. “How did a Muggle get his hands on this?”

John wonders, briefly, how Black knows he’s not a wizard, how he recognises the alleged tastelessness of Veritaserum, but decides to leave it because this isn’t what he came for. Instead, he says, “You’re the reason Lily and James Potter are dead,” and Black jolts.

“I won’t deny it,” he says slowly, almost mournfully.

“But you didn’t sell them out.”

John doesn’t ask this, says it like it’s as true as his name.

“Never,” Black whispers, looks horrified at the thought.

“The Potters were under Fidelius. People say you were the Secret Keeper.”

“I was,” says Black, “And then I wasn’t.”

“You switched.”

Black says nothing.

“With who?”

He looks alive, then, just for a moment. “Peter Pettigrew.”

“Oh.”

John tries to make sense of it all.

“Was he a Death Eater?”

“Yes,” Black croaks. “A spy. I tried to kill him.”

“And the Muggles?”

“Peter fired the Blasting spell at the street, cut off his finger and ran, the coward.”

“You didn’t follow?” frowns John.

“And go where?” Black almost laughs. “James was dead. Peter had killed him. Remus hated me for it.”

John leaves Remus for the moment. “What about Hal?” he asks stiffly. “You were her Godfather,” _and she went to the fucking Dursleys_.

Black’s eyes widen. “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead.” He shakes and rocks and John pictures him with his hands around Hal’s neck. “Dumbledore said she’s dead.”

Dumbledore.

“You didn’t see her body.” It’s not a question.

Black’s eyes are wide and frightened and when he shakes his head, his whole body moves with it. “Dumbledore was there before- before I could- And I knew Peter had done it, was the spy, so I ran and- James is dead, Lily is dead, Hal is dead.” He’s sobbing, looking at his hands like they’re dripping blood.

John watches this man fall apart in front of him and, “Fuck,” he breathes, before gathering himself. “Hal’s alive. She’s alive. She lives with me.”

Black’s knees give way and he crumbles to the floor. He doesn’t cry, not quite, but it’s a close thing.

“Why-” Black can’t finish.

“I’ll figure it out,” John says lowly, a promise if nothing else. “I’m going to get you a trial.”

Black stays quiet, shoulders shuddering with his every breath, but he keeps his eyes on John.

John knows Black is powerful, for all his mind is shredded, knows that he’d split John down the middle if he had his wand, so he tries to figure where he stands.

“You keep her safe,” says Black, and he doesn’t need to threaten, he knows John’s name and his face and will tear him in two if anything happens to Hal, John can see that.

So he says, “I will,” because like hell he’d let anyone hurt Hal.

Black nods to himself, rocks a little, and asks, “What do you do?” like he knows the answer.

“I kill people.” There’s no point in lying, not here, and Black’s eyes are sharp as they look him up and down.

Black doesn’t say anything for a moment, until, “There are people in here who will want Hal’s head, one day. Everyone on this floor and the one below. It’s maximum security. They're dangerous, deadly. Murderers.”

And it’s an invitation as much as anything he’s heard. He almost smiles.

“People scream here all the time. The Aurors won’t question it.” Black tilts his head a bit, says, “Make it hurt,” and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognise.


End file.
